Greater Good
by Casey.G
Summary: "I'm just on my way back to medical; there's a new patient come in and they need my help, can this wait?" If Derix's self-satisfied smirk and Kamern's exasperated sigh were anything to go by I'd say they don't quite believe me, "I'm afraid not."
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this almost a year ago now I think and I'd always intended to add more before I posted it, admittedly I'm not too happy with the ending but I think it's been sitting around long enough now. I did have this completely planned out but I've really only just re-visited it, so I'd really really love some feedback - whether good or bad, I just wanna know what people honestly think of this chapter and my writing in general. Hope you enjoy regardless and have a lovely day :)

On the Ark everything is limited; food rations, medical supplies, free time and even oxygen. Nothing can be spared and everything is shared based on need.  
A nice idea in theory, terrible in action.  
Being from Alpha Station I can consider myself one of the privileged, only elevated by my status as Medic in Ark Station Medical and then reinforced by being Council Member Dr Griffin's personal apprentice. She took me on just after my fourteenth birthday and she's dedicated every moment since then to teaching me everything she knows, and largely because of her dedication, within a few months, or less with some luck, I'll also be granted the title of Dr. (Given that I pass the exam's of course.) And having that higher title will only make my job easier, both medically and in my out of work activities.

Being part of the privileged sector makes it virtually impossible to ignore the Ark's massive social hierarchy divide. Those working on Stations such as Mecha, Agro or Factory seemed to struggle with the less than satisfactory food rations given and limited quota for medical treatment, especially when factoring in that many of those workers face a much more dangerous job than, say, anyone from my station. But given my position on Go-Sci Station I think I'm more than able to help, and honestly, the guilt of knowing and doing nothing would be crippling.

You'd be shocked the number of people who are in desperate need for help and under the age of 12, usually they're attempting to help out struggling parents rather than themselves, but something about that just makes the situation more heartbreaking. The innocence of their childhood sacrificed in place of empty tummies, desperately sick parents and a crushing responsibility unwittingly shoved onto them so soon into their, what is guaranteed to be difficult, lives.  
I've been smuggling extra food rations and medicine to desperate families since I was around 16, at this point I have a list of regulars that sadly just keeps on growing, and then, of course, the popup patients in need of medicine that they've already gone over their quota for. Naturally covering this entire operation up is a bit tricky, not at all helped by the fact I'm doing this completely alone and the threat of being floated is looming over my head at every turn.

There are those who say my motivation for doing all of this is less than selfless, those who hate me because of my position on the Ark and take my attempt at assistance as charity or pity –that I'm seeking to make myself feel better rather than a genuine desire to help. Perhaps they're right; perhaps it's some deep-rooted sense of superiority that makes me help them despite the danger, a sense of safety from my valued position. Maybe I view myself as some modern-day Robin Hood; a messiah of the people. A twisted mentality of 'Everything I do is to help the needy & desperate and you should thank me for it'; a side effect of growing up on Alpha station I'm sure.  
Regardless of my moral reasoning, standing by and doing nothing just doesn't sit well with me.

Occasionally, in the particularly difficult weeks, I'll get the bright idea that it'd be easier to include more people in this little operation; perhaps then with a larger group we could expand and help more people on the Ark. Presently the only ones who know of what I do, are the ones I help. But then you're given the issue of who to trust, how many to include? would the risk of everything only go up? would the risk for my patients go up?. Ultimately I'd elected to keep all of this too myself.

But that still wasn't enough

Making my way back from food storage, with around 16 stolen rations stashed away on my person is risky enough as it is; having three guards waiting around the corner for you is practically a death sentence. And their slow approach wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

I know two of them by name, the third appeared to be a guard in training and I absentmindedly note that I should cosy up to him as soon as possible – keep your enemies close and all that. I'd never considered myself friends with the other two, Derix & Kamern, but I'd made it a point to know as many guards as I could, from their names to general shift rotation. Partially to make smuggling easier and well, you never know who you might need a favour off. Nonetheless, we're acquaintances at the very least, though that really didn't help with why they were making their way towards me.

Kamern appeared to be leading the group, ironic really considering his small stature and quiet personality; Derix and the new kid towered over him in the back.  
His blonde hair was parted to the side and combed down as usual, and he was clearly attempting to look stern and give off an intimidating presence – not that that particularly worked with his baby face and light freckled skin, though I suppose he is practically a kid, only recently turned 18.  
Well, he's younger than me at least.

Derix towering behind him was clearly in his element here. Slowly approaching someone bound to be in trouble, uniform crisp, brown eyes conveying a bored indifference to all like everyone was the dirt beneath his shoe. We never got along particularly well, he's difficult to talk too and takes everything much too seriously, but we were at least civil.

The new kid looked nervous, though a quite determination marred his brow as he approached with the others. He'd clearly only just started - perhaps I'm even his first bust. That ought to be a treat, the first person your set to float and its Dr Griffins prodigy caught smuggling rations.

I briefly entertain the idea of running but the notion is dismissed as quickly as it came, there is after all absolutely nowhere I could attempt to hide in the long term. We're on a ship in space there are only so many places, besides if they're after me now running isn't going to stop them coming after me later.

"Mrs Johnson, if you'd like to come with us please."

Kamern, despite his less than guard-like physique, possessed an inherently authoritative voice that made you want to do anything he said. But this time I really couldn't, I know I don't actually have a choice right now, but I also know if I go with them I'm guaranteed to be floated within the week,

"I'm just on my way back to medical; there's a new patient come in and they need my help, can this wait?"

If Derix's self-satisfied smirk and Kamern's exasperated sigh were anything to go by I'd say they don't quite believe me,

"I'm afraid not."

Once again Kamern's authoritative tone left little room for argument, though that didn't stop the notion of running coming back to mind. I'd have nothing to lose now anyway, if I go with them I'll undoubtedly be searched, figured out and floated regardless of my position of the ark. But if I run maybe I'll stand some kind of chance, maybe the people I've been helping all these years can help me out; hide me perhaps.

But I can't spend forever like that; flitting from room to room, and there's nowhere else I could possibly go, no one I'd want to put at such great a risk. Perhaps it'd be better to be floated for my crimes, certainly quicker in the least.  
Regardless I seem to have run out of time to make my decision, though I never really had on one in the first place. The small nod Kamern sent to Derix and the new boy had them advancing on me in seconds, giving me no time at all to turn and run and instead be forced into their hands and marched forcefully down the hallway - Kamern leading all the way.

It wasn't until we reached the Ark's Go-Sci main hallway that I began to question how they found out about my operation. Being marched through the hallways I was met with concerned looks and quiet whispers, a majority of those I passed aren't people I help out but the odd one here and there, the ones looking the most distressed at my situation or perhaps at the prospect of their own, I recognised. And considering the only ones to know about my smuggling are those I've been helping, only one of them could have turned me in, which quite frankly made little sense. But I've always been meticulous with my plans, always checking guard systems for any changes, forging the medical forms to the letter as well as the food ration forms and after spending the last seven years doing this I'd gotten pretty good at it.

They didn't bother to search me until after we'd reached the skybox, apparently, they were confident enough in the information they were given, only reaffirming my suspicion that who every ratted me out is presumably someone I've been helping for a while now. They did eventually search me however and found exactly what they were looking for (much to Derix's delight). I was briskly read off my reasons for being put into the skybox and told that the council would review my case shortly, which was completely unnecessary; I was over the age of 18 and therefore guaranteed to be floated for my crimes. All three guards left the room following this and I moved to perch on the edge of the bed as the grating, mechanical locks fell into place.

Life on the Ark; a paradise in space.

Sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Considering my age, I hadn't expected to be left in the skybox for so long whilst the counsellors discussed the punishment for my truly _atrocious_ crimes. The was no discussion to be had, not really, I am over 18 years of age and have been supplying unregistered medical care for years – in their eyes wasting countless supplies of limited stock and deceiving every medical personnel member ranking above me. To them I have condemned the entirety of the Ark simply to save the few. But the few were becoming the many; the number of people in such desperate need was growing and growing day after day. How could anyone possibly ignore that, how could they, with good conscience, turn a blind eye to the suffering of _their own people_ all to keep us spinning aimlessly in space for a few more years?.

I have no regret for my so-called crimes, knowing my fate is set I can at least go peacefully with the knowledge that I eased the suffering of those I could. Although the ache I feel now, knowing they will return back to their struggles without the small assistance I could provide is enough to damped any sense of pride, hope or accomplishment. Though it does help to feed the burning anger that grows within my chest for this inhumane existence aboard the Ark, the chancellors ruling over us like Gods choosing who can live and who can be left to suffer.

The lights are turned off every night to preserve energy; this is the only reason I know how much time has passed since I came here.  
It's been 5 days so far.  
An officer has brought me two meals a day every day and not said a word to me in the 5. Why they've not come to take me to be floated yet is a mystery. Perhaps they find my work valuable; valuable enough to outweigh my crimes even. But would the honestly allow me back into the medic bay after all I've done, they'd never risk trusting me again so why keep me here, wasting food and water and air on me.

It wasn't until the seventh day that I had my answer.

I didn't hear them coming up, you never do, not through the thick steel that cages me in – but the heavy grinding of the locks on my door are unmistakable and give you little more than 30 seconds to make your peace if you hadn't already managed too. Hearing the turn of that heavy lock was my death sentence, one of the last things I'd hear, in a room I'd been caged in for seven days. I wish I'd known when exactly they'd be coming when the last turn off of the lights was the final one I'd see, I'd has slept longer, savoured that last meal, took the time to look at the stars out the window, considered the possibility of a future I may have given those I helped, considered the loss of my own future in the process confronted my death and made peace but now I've got no more than those 30 seconds to prepare.

Steeping forward into the cell, Derix took up his usual stance, trying to occupy as much space as he could in the small cell in an attempt to assert his dominance over the situation – this would work better if it wasn't for his ridiculous self-entitlement and pride bordering on insufferable arrogance. He is most certainly not the last person I want to see before I get floated.

"Miss. Johnson, fancy seeing you here", his self-satisfied smirk was back, stretching the taught skin of his jaw into deep smile lines, not that I've ever seen him give a true and happy smile. I don't intend to indulge him with a response and rather stand steadily from the low metal bed I've called home for the past seven days, the last thing I'll ever called home.  
Perhaps it was being moments away from being floated that made me take in those little details I never had before, but now, standing in front of Derix, the top of my head only just reaching his chin; I noticed the power of his stance, the bulging of the veins in his arms making him look tense and angry. I took notice of the way he rolled his uniform sleeves as far up as he could in an obvious display of showing of his arms and the fact he chose to wear one obviously a few sizes too small. But looking at his face I could see something there I never had before, looking past the amused quirk of his slim lips, ignoring the quirk of his manicured brow and the harsh contours of his face giving way to his wide jaw and small hooded eyes – I could see it, just there, hidden in plain sight, a slight tremble giving way to a tenderness? Concern perhaps? Maybe even apology?  
I've never pretended to understand Derix or approve of his gleeful abuse of power, but he was always proud of being an officer, that much could certainly be said, and he'd always upheld the law no matter what - is that perhaps why I could see this concern now? Was he regretful for my being floated? Or was he worried, for his own position on the Ark – after all if Doctor Griffin's apprentice could be floated what was there to protect him. Perhaps, in some hidden reassess of his being he wasn't regretful for me; he'd hardly have much to miss other than some fleeting conversations in corridors or my smart remarks to his blatant self-indulgence. Perhaps he was regretful for my patients, maybe this whole ordeal has brought to light the injustice of the Ark, and the injustice he works for, perhaps he is simply regretful for himself.

But then again, maybe it's just my silent staring that's freaking him out. Though he is about to lead me to my death, he can't surely be expecting pleasant conversation and witty remarks. He rights himself and sets his shoulders back before pulling cuffs from his side and holding his hand out for my own. I give them willingly; there's no out now, this is it.  
He snaps the cuffs on, though doesn't following with tightening them to that pinching degree I see him revel in so often – well, maybe he does have some concern for me after all. The gentle grip he takes of my upper arm certainly contests to this. He leads me down the halls of the skybox, heading directly for the floating chamber and again I'm struck with those small details I'd never cared to notice before, the slight tremble under my feet of the motors working to pump water and heat and keep generators running, the coolness of each new breath hitting my lungs and feel of deflation upon release of those last few breaths I'll ever take. Truly, there's nothing like your impeding death to make you appreciate the little things.

I can see it now, just ahead, the clear domed glass of the floating chamber visible through the small window of the sliding door ahead. Once through that door will seal closed behind me, I'll be read my rights and reasoning behind being floated, my list of crimes and moved forward into a second room to be sucked out into the unforgiving chill of space. I'd seen people floated before, been there for last minute medical attention to try and give people some small dignity before death. I've watched as fear took hold of their bodies and they've stood, paralysed, staring back into the eye of any who could help. I've seen their mouths widening into a scream that'll never be heard as the oxygen is ripped from their bodies. I can envision it for myself now. I've gone so cold, it's as though all the blood has drained from my arms and I can feel them going limp in Derik's grip, my cheeks feel hallow, the colour falling away from them as the unmistakable tightness of fear that I've seen mar so many faces grips my chest and make my bones turn weak.

Only, we turn before the door. Derix's is leading me instead on a sharp left away from the chamber and down a further narrow hall. He couldn't possibly be attempting to save me could he? Was that tremble of fear I'd identified previously manifesting into some hero complex, he couldn't do anything, not now, my fate was sealed there is no where he could possibly take or hide me. The insanity of his actions was just barely sinking in when he swiped for access to a singular door along a narrow hallway and dragged me inside with him. Unless there had been some change to the procedure for those to be floated that I had not been made aware of, I could not understand why I was now stood, handcuffed, in a room with Doctor Griffins, chancellor Jaha and Marcus Kane. Could this potentially be some new form of execution; is the airlock no longer safe to open at such regular intervals with which they'd been floating people lately? Or worse yet, could this be interrogation, to find out all the names of those who I've helped in all these years, did they honestly what to punish those poor defenceless people for the help I provided them?

"Isabelle, I expect you're not much in the mood for pleasantries."

The silence that took hold earlier with Derix was different to the kind which held me now. Before, the impeding nature of my death lead me to be consumed by my own thoughts, my own observations of surroundings I've never truly cared for before. But now, the silence I returned to Chancellor Jaha's introduction is one stemming from disbelief and panicked confusion. I must agree with him though, I'm not much in the mood for pleasantries but only because I'd never anticipated having to engage in them again, I'd never anticipated having to see these three before me again – sometimes they would be present for a floating but only for those higher up officials they catch, I hardly think I rank for them.

"Isabelle, how have you been?"

I'm beginning to think my face must be frozen in a dumbstruck state, hanging with my mouth open if the concerned looks of those in the room were anything to go off – never mind Doctor Griffin's tender tone. How could they expect me to have been? I've been preparing for my imminent death for the last seven days, abandoning all those I've helped for so many years, knowing that they'd now return to a life of struggle and starvation, knowing that I'll never be able to walk the halls or sleep in my own bed again. No, I will not be engaging in these pleasantries nor will I be indulging them with reassurances of the _wonderful_ time I'd been having.

"Perhaps we should just get straight to the point."

If I didn't know any better I'd say that's the first sensible thing I've ever heard Marcus Kane utter in all the time I've known him. I'm certainly not here to carry on some happy little conversation with them, and I fully expect to be turned around and marched straight back to the floating chamber, so whatever twisted interrogation or deal they've worked out for me they may as well get on with it – they'll never get any names from me, I'd never jeopardise those people any more than those in power in this room already have.

"Miss. Johnson, you're not going to be floated, actually, we have a more suited task for your medical abilities. Of course, you don't get a choice in this task, this is your punishment in an away but we can't understate you usefulness and expertise in your area."

Despite wanting to get straight to the point, I find Kane's explanation to be as vague as a usual conversation with him. The most I got from this was I'm not being floated. I won't be dying today. Seven days locked up waiting for my death, moving through cycles of sobbing and anger and fear for myself, the system, my patients. Those horrible seven days for nothing. And now they offer me, no, order me, into some task that I couldn't not be chosen for and yet it took them seven days to even tell me. The ringing in my ears at this news and the torture of the last week is deafening, I can't make sense of thought or see past this blinding anger that's building up within me.

"I'm not being floated?" the only coherent thought I could actually make sense of.

"No, miss. Johnson. You're not being floated." Marcus Kane's repetition can only attest to that dumbstruck state I must still appear in, the buzzing of emotion coursing through my body leaves room for little else.  
"Instead yourself, and another 100 underage criminals are being sent to earth in the next two hours in order to discover if the earth is in fact inhabitable again. Of course we have no way of knowing for certain, which Is why we'll be sending all of you as opposed to the other citizens of the Ark, your task when there will be to serve as a medic to the 100 and report back to us any findings of medicine, illness that befall them or other situations which arise, you will be our main source of contact and ultimately the leader on the ground."

"The ground."

The sigh from Chancellor Jaha clearly indicates his disappointment in my response following his explanations. But the ground. We weren't supposed to return for another 100 years and now, in two hours, 100 of us are being dropped there. As their test subjects, half of those underage in the skybox committed crimes of no substance, stealing an extra ration, spending a minute too long In the shower, fighting in the hall and now all of them are to be sent to die on earth. They won't throw them out the airlock until their 18 but dropping them on a radioactive wasteland is fine?

"You're shipping all of us to earth, radioactive and uninhabitable earth. And you expect me to go willingly, to act as your informant, after locking me away for seven days just for helping those in need, those that you've refused to help yourself!" the raise in my voice shocked Doctor Griffins to standing straight while Kane actually stepped back a margin and I felt Derix step forward behind me and his fingers brush my forearm in warning. Apparently my anger at the present situation has brought back the frustration of the injustice of their actions and retrieved me from my dumbstruck state into an infuriated rage. I've helped all I can in any way I can and they'd have me killed for it. They'd have my patients killed for it. But now, with some need of their own, we couldn't be more valuable?

"Again, you don't have a choice, you'll be on the drop ship within the next two hours and from there you'll be on earth, we have video and audio communications in place which we'll use to monitor the 100 and communicate with you on your findings, well also be sending you with medical supplies aboard the ship which should last you at least three months given no major or wide spread injuries."

"How very kind of you" I sneered "but I won't be going, find a new informant, I have no intention of helping any one of you or any other rat aboard this hunk of metal which has the audacity to criminalise me for what I've done." Marcus Kane was apparently not prepared for this rebuttal of his supposedly calming statement if the incredulous look of his face was any indication.

"Any other rat? What about those you have helped with your services, they too will not be heading to earth in the coming months if you and the 100 cannot attest to its liveability?" While I knew that Chancellor Jaha was simply looking for a weak point to coheres me into going, it didn't stop the fact that he'd found it. What more would I be doing than wasting all those years in which I risked everything for those people if I refuse to help now. They deserve a chance of living, of a happy life where they don't have to ration food and water or supplies where it'll all be freely given and foraged. But how can they have that without me doing as I'm asked here.

"But you'll come with them. All of you who have done nothing but leave them too suffer, you'll come down with them to continue your happy lives in power while they fend for themselves as always."

The conflict of my thoughts was beginning to leak into my speech and I fear that my arguments don't sound as well thought out as I'd hopped. If they find me little more than an angry woman babbling on about injustice they'll do nothing more than exploit these weakness further, something which was already working as it is.

"We have a chance on earth, we all do, the poor and elite alike. Yes, there will still be a power structure, as their needs to be in a functioning society, but think of how much easier it'll be for us all – medicines readily available, food to be found on the ground, an unlimited supply of water and oxygen, simply the chance to live upon earth as we are intended too."

"If we don't all die of radiation the minute we hit the ground you mean."

"That's why we're taking this chance –"

"No, you're asking us to take this chance!"

"– were asking you to take this chance, to help us, to show us that earth is habitable. We can't continue in space forever and I think you can agree that a further hundred years is an awfully long time."

There's a reason Jaha is the Chancellor and I imagine it has something to do with his skills of communication. He had me. Yes, it is a bargain, but it's also a slight moment of hope that maybe there is better for us all, maybe we could have some chance of a future and how else are we going to find out without leaving ourselves.

I fear that, no matter what I say or the decision I make, it's not down to me. I have no choice in this – I either go willingly and do as they ask or I fight and be forced into it anyway. And 100 hundred years is an awfully long time. I'd like to see all that green, the trees, feel the warmth of the sun that I've so often read about.

"Fine. I suppose I was going to die anyway, may as well experience earth just once before I do."

The sudden release of tension within the room was palpable, Chancellor Jaha smacked his hands together and Doctor Griffin's shoulders slouched forward with relief. Marcus Kane beckoned Derix forward with a wave of his hand and then there was a sharp pain in my wrist as needles stabled into my skin with a metal clang sealing the device shut. I gasped in pain and pulled my arm back to see the large metal cuff I was now fitted with,

"It's a monitor, everyone heading to the ground has been fitted with one, it means we can monitor your vitals from down there and see how you're all getting on."

Doctor Griffins had a glow of concern in her eyes and a panicked air about her as she leaned forward with her hands clasped together. She's been my mentor for so very long, I'd imagine her to have felt betrayed with my action while in her care, my operation could have gotten her in as much trouble as I'd found myself. But the glow of care in her face made me think otherwise, the design of these bracelets were smart, to monitor the 100 and see if we all suddenly drop dead upon arrival. But I know her, she's designed these not only out of a medical need but from an emotional standpoint too, she knows the risk in all of this and I struggle to believe that she's entirely happy about shipping underage delinquents to the ground as guinea pigs. And then I remembered, Clarke. She's been in lockup for the past year; they could be sending her too.

Doctor Griffins has realised that her silent plea has reached me and I look back with furrowed brows as I understand that they are, they're sending Clarke with the 100. Derix has my arm again and is guiding me out of the room but before he can Doctor Griffin's is leaping towards me, both hands clasping each of my shoulders,

"Look out for her down there, she'll want to lead, too care for everyone, but she can't that's why we need you. Please, please don't let anything happen to her."

I'd never seen such desperation in her eyes, not in all my years of working with her, nor had she ever begged me for anything. I was never too close with Clarke, I was only her mother's apprentice after all and, Clarke always struck me as somewhat ignorant during our time together – not that that's any fault of her own considering her upbringing and it certainly doesn't earn her the place she has in the skybox. But sending both me and Clarke, the two people who work closest with Doctor Griffins, it was a definite gamble.

Derix continued to tug me out the room as I raised a hand to Doctor Griffins and just barely brush her wrist, nodding numbly as I'm turned away from her too swiftly to see if she understood, that I'd watch Clarke. I was being guided back down the narrow hall of lockup, away now from the execution chamber I thought my previous destination and back down the hall too my cell, and then past that too. I was being taken directly to the drop ship.

I'm going to the ground, the earth we're supposed to live on. I'm really going to see it, I may die within minutes but just those few moments to feel the sun, see a blue sky with clouds, feel the soil beneath my feet, a soft grounding for once rather than this cold metal. I'm really going, so many have dreamed of this and accepted it'll never be them – myself include – but now. Even if I am going as a guinea pig, just being able to experience it, just once. And if it's successful, we'll have paved the way for everyone to be able to come and have a real chance at life on earth again, if we can set up camps and farm grounds, three months would be plenty of time to establish ourselves.

They're providing me with three months of medical supplies, more than enough to last. But then, so much could happen in those three months. What if we do all die, what if we crash land. The fear was back, that cold feeling in my arms, making my body feel heavy and limp.

Derix was practically dragging me not a docking station, and there in front of me was the drop ship. It was old, incredibly so, clearly something from when the Ark was first established – suddenly crash landing seemed a rather legitimate possibility.

"All your medical supplies are in here, they've kept them near the door for easy access."

Derix pointed it all out to me, but you couldn't have missed it really, strapped to the wall was a large plastic container and through the see-through lid I could see syringes and rations, some medicine bottles and bandages too. There was more than enough there to sustain us I'm sure. But then, why do they think I'll need that much, they really can't have much hope for this venture at all.

I realise that Derix is trying to guide me into a seat next to the medical supplies, against the same wall as he door, front and centre of the drop ship. The thick red straps and their heavy metal buckles look tattered in places, worn down and used too often, clearly as old as the drop ship itself. No comfort to be had, if the ship were to crash I doubt the seatbelts will be of much use to us all.

It'll be cramped on board, all 100 of us and all under 18 too I'm sure they'll be plenty too scared to move, I'll have to prepare something to ease their stomach upon landing, there should be plenty in that kit. It was nice, to be able to focus on something other than my imminent death now, but still, in the back of my mind, the worry was there, counting up all the things which could possibly go wrong and to what disastrous affect that'll have.

I heard Derix clear his throat next to me, shocking me out of my completive stupor and making me look round at the sheepish look on his face. His hands are together behind his back and he's practically shuffling his feet together, clearly unsure of what to do with his self,

"Don't die down there, yeah."

He nods off to the side when he says it and I can't help but think maybe he does have some care for me there, he looks almost confused at his own words as his brow furrows and he clears his throat again. Feeling he should say something but unsure what,

"Thank you Derix."

His head snapped round to face me, a taken back look on his face before he eased and nodded again a little, clearly assured in his self. I believe he's trying to say what he can to convay the hope he must feel for this mission, for the concern he must feel for me. Derix was always a prideful man and we'd never much gotten along, his arrogance typically getting in the way – but I think in some strange way I'm going to miss him.

He turns on his heel and leaves after out brief exchange, satisfied with the outcome I believe, and not ten minute of silence later the following 100 began pouring on board – a ramble of partially terrified, partially excited teens most I think confused at what was happening and a few unconscious and being carried. I'll assumes they resisted.

This was it now. Either the beginning of a new life or an end of us all.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry it's been so long, I've just finished my a-levels at college and I've finally got enough time again to write, that's also why this chapter is so long….it got away from me a bit, but hopefully that's not a bad thing.  
Anyway, please review! And enjoy!**

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 _Chapter 3_

"Your dad is a dick, Wells!"

Laughter erupted through the cargo ship, clearly the majority agree with the sentiment. Myself among them; to a degree at least. I can understand the necessity for this venture, and the logic in sending the 'expendable' delinquents who'd be floated soon anyway – but that doesn't negate the truly heartless treatment of us, as people whose crimes, for the most part, were committed in the hope of bettering their circumstances aboard the Ark. Circumstances made worse by the very people who've chosen to send us down here.

Instead, we are crammed, like cattle for the slaughter. No dignity in our death. Only the dimming hope of our deaths holding some greater meaning for the many.

"…Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years."

Jaha's monotone instruction was drowned by the juvenile cheering and celebration rippling through the ship as the "'Spacewalk bandit' strikes again!" if the distorted hollering from the far side of the ship is too be believed. I can't quite make out what's going on from here, though I can just make out two legs sticking out from around the side of a seat, floating horizontally in the air. Plainly someone had removed their seatbelt to float through the zero gravity of the ship – presumably the same boy they locked up for taking an illegal spacewalk and wasting almost a month of oxygen.

Not the most commendable of moments.

From the looks of it others where following suit, from my isolated seat beside the drop ship door I'm provided with a unobstructed view of another young boy unclipping his seatbelt in glee to begin floating upwards from his seat. The distant shouting of "Stay in your seats!" echoing down from the floor above must mean that someone's realised the same thing I have; as much fun as these boys must be having the likelihood of this being a less than smooth ride to the ground is high, especially if the previous break through the atmosphere was anything to go off.

I almost don't have the heart to stop them. Their jubilation was understandable; I was in a close enough state myself, suffering through the utter terror and hollow agony that courses through you, turning your bones to lead and blood too ice when they decide your fate, believing your time on the Ark to be in its final few moments. To have a sudden release, to be sent to earth with no Chancellor and no proper rules, complete free reign to do as you wish after so long of simply sitting and waiting to die.

Who wouldn't want a moment to feel just as weightless physically as we do now mentally and emotionally?

But then the crash came, as dangerous and jarring here as being imprisoned on the Ark. It throws you off, sends you into a panicked frenzy, not knowing where to turn. And the boys floating in their glee suffered the full force of it. I watched as the boy I could see before was slammed into the side of the dropship and ruptured the pipes against the wall, steam now billowing out of them. Panic had erupted aboard the ship as the steam filled the room and the agonised groaning of the metal struggling to keep itself together built and built and built.

They knew this'd be a possibility.

God knows how old this ship is, and they decided to shove 100 adolescents aboard knowing full well if we don't die on the journey down we'd likely die of radiation on the ground.  
It doesn't look as though wed make it that far now.  
I can't fight the knot in my throat or the tears building behind my eyes as we spiral out of control and the screaming swells into a horrifying cacophony of fear.  
I'm not ready to die.  
I wasn't even ready aboard the Ark, when I believed that was where I was being taken too and to be given this hope, this chance of a full life for me and everyone on the Ark, only to have it ripped away again – I'm not ready.

The turbulence of the ship is still building and I can no longer distinguish the others suffering from my own sobbing. That hollow feelings back, like I'm made of lead and metal but my blood runs as ice and, despite being so packed into such a small ship, I've never felt so utterly alone.  
To die like this is one thing, but to die alone. Away from my family and those few friends I had, surrounded instead by people id never met and hold no bond with. To die in a crash and left to rot on Earth in a metal mass grave – it's not fair.

Of course they'd send us, the worthless and undeserving, instead of themselves. Jaha wouldn't even sacrifice himself for his own people, he could only send his instruction though a video, not even capable of being Chancellor on Earth while someone else governs the Ark – he expects us to die for him and those who imprisoned us but would never do the same for his very own people. He's who my blame lays with, him and every other governor. They couldn't even ensure a safe land.

They didn't even give us a chance.

The crash came sooner than expected and with a thunderous impact we'd landed – the first humans on earth in centuries.  
Now to see if we'd survive.

At some point I'd squeezed my eyes shut and now, trying to prize them open and blink through the blurry film of tears clouding my vision, I can see the others looking around in confusion or relief, checking on themselves and their counterparts – and I remember; the floating boys who hit the walls. With a newfound energy I reached down with shaking hands to hurriedly unbuckle the seatbelt and rush forward from my seat, the straps flying backwards to collide loudly with the metal of the walls as I dive towards the med-kit strapped to the wall on my right. At some point during the flight one of the pipes near me must have ruptured and had broken off to hit the plastic med-box, crushing it slightly in the corner and spilling what looked like a fluid on the inside of the case. None the less I prize it of the wall and rush in the direction of the boy who I saw slam into the dropship wall, barley registering the hurried nature of those around me rushing towards the front of the ship.

Frantically I kneel beside him, he's face down and I can see blood forming on the floor beneath his face – he must have broken his nose on the impact, or, even worse, hit his head hard enough to do serious damage. I roll him over quickly, faintly panicking over his dead weight nature, and find his nose badly broken to the side, bone showing through and blood coating the side of his face. Despite fearing the worst I check for a pulse. The tears build again in my eyes as I pull my hand away. Looking around I can find nothing to grant him that final dignity in death and instead begin to rearrange him in a more peaceful manner, limbs less splayed and eyes closed as opposed to their blank, glazed stare.

Someone barges past, not even noticing me sitting beside this bloodied figure of a young boy in their rush to the doors of the ship. Only now do I look around at the people congregating a few rows of seats behind me, all being stopped by something in their rush to open the doors to the ground. It's as I see people running down from the upper levels that I remember the first boy, the one whose feet I could see but little else – he would have been hurt in the crash too. Pulling the med-kit up and hurrying to the stairs I desperately search for the boy, this "space walker" they were all cheering for, praying that I won't be too late to help him as I had been previously.

I find a young man staring solemnly at the ground first and as I approach him I see those same shoes jutting out from the row of seats. A third boy lays there on his side, and I settle down beside him, unconsciously batting the hands away from his head as I start to take his pulse, wasting no time this time round.

"Isabella?"

A shocked tone sounds from beside me and I glance around to face Clarke, tearstained and panicked as she stares at me, as though for some answer or reassurance that I could not give. I hadn't expected to run into her so soon, especially not in such a dire situation, but I have no time to speak to her and she's realised this too,

"Finn, is he breathing?" she asks in a rushed tone, desperate for some form of answer - clearly he got here before us both but if his solemn look is anything to go of he believes the boy to be dead, but then I feel a pulse, faint and fluttering, but there none the less, beating meekly beneath my fingers.

I scan him quickly for injuries and settle on his face and I notice not only does he have a large cut to his left cheek, in addition to the already broken arm bent at an odd angle to his right, but I realise that I know him.  
Glen Dickson.  
He was one of the families I helped. His mother was sick so often and they had used up their quota long ago but that didn't exactly help her. I was smuggling pain killers and antibiotic to him to give her, in addition to the odd extra ration I could grab to try and keep her strength up. I wasn't sure if she was going to make it, but I was doing the best with what I had, He got arrested for trying to do more than I already was – he was caught in a ration locker, grabbing all he could put his hands on, something he never would have gotten away with even if he had made it out of the room.  
I had to save him, after all I done for him I couldn't just give up on him now – I knew him, he was kind and loving, the most family orientated boy I'd ever met and so mature for his years, he deserved so much more than this. I turned to Clarke, as she sat beside me as though waiting for instruction, and told her to grab an oxygen mask and any kind of bandages to stop the bleeding before he slipped away as I began resuscitation, desperate to build his heartbeat back up to a more manageable standard.

She'd just pulled out an oxygen mask when someone shouted something about the doors being open and she whipped around and jumped to her feet shouting after them,  
"No. we can't just open the doors." While I shouted after her  
"Clarke! He's still breathing, Clarke!" but she was already gone.

I turn back round to my patient and huff in frustration as I reach behind me for the oxygen mask she'd discarded on the floor while I try to keep tempo with my other hand, pumping down on his chest. Just as I whipped my head round with an angered grunt to search for the oxygen mask properly, I see the boy, Finn, crawling being me, shuffling towards Glens head and fitting the mask over his face. I quickly return both my hand to his chest and maintain a heartbeat rhythm,

"Thank you." I say glancing over at him; staring down at Glens face.

"What else do you need?" he doesn't look at me when he speaks, to busy analysing Glens face, a distracted look in his eye.

I scan back to Glens misshapen arm, the bone showing through near his elbow and blood quickly pooling beneath him, "bandages, any you can find, apply pressure to his arm and try to slow the bleeding," he shuffles around again, now with a wad of bandages in hand as he settles across from me, unravelling the bandages and pushing haphazardly on Glens wound, "Tie a tourniquet if you can, just above his elbow, nice and tight to stop the blood flow to the broken skin." He nods absently and goes about the actions, he seems somewhat removed from the situation, as though weighed by guild or remorse. He was the first one to remove his seatbelt and float about, he triggered the others into following, I suppose in a way he is responsible. But he couldn't have known what was too happen, the crash or the severity of the boy's injuries. I won't tell him about the other boy, he seems weighed down enough without that on his conscious – if that boy's death is on anyone, it's on Jaha.

Finn finishes tying the tourniquet and I wave him to take over what I'm doing as I move to examine the gash on Glen's cheek and bring my hand to check his pule again as I do.

It'd stopped.

I look around at my hand on his neck, feeling no flutter or out of time beat. He was gone.  
I close my eyes and reach out for Finns arm, pushing him to stop the resuscitation and looking round at him with sadden and clouded eyes telling him soundlessly that Glen was gone. Finn deflates across from me and thumps back against the wall, head hitting the wall with a bang and his eyes shutting softly.

"It's not your fault. They were enjoying themselves. At least they had some kind of release in their final moments, you gave them that really. Don't blame yourself."

I can't find any other words of comfort to conjure forth and I know what I've provided likely isn't exactly what he wants to hear. He doesn't bring his head forward but I see him open his eyes and look in my direction, he nods minutely and I do in return. I move to remove the oxygen mask from Glens face placing it back In the med-kit box, before reaching over to untie to tourniquet and pick up the bloody bandages – I'll probably be able to soak them and salvage them, depending on how many I was truly equipped with. Glen's jacket had come off in his flight, perhaps he was in the process of removing it when we crashed, regardless I slipped it off his good arm and covered his face with it, giving him some dignity in death that he wasn't rewarded by the Ark in life. At least he'd be with his mother again. Though his father would be broken, they were such a close family, always so grateful yet desperate.  
They all deserved better.

##############

By the time I'd repacked my equipment and arranged both the boys in a more dignified position, saying a small prayer above them both out of kindness – I can't say for the first boy, but I know Glen and his family were quite religious, they'd appreciate the gesture and it's the most I can give. It's only as I sit back from my ministrations that I recognise the eerie quite which has taken hold of the dropship. They'd all left, gone outside to the ground; Finn had walked quietly past me some time ago, laying a hand on my shoulder for a moment as he went. I'd almost forgotten where we were, that we had safely landed on earth – for the most part. I'd been so wrapped up in sorrow and guilt in failing to save either boy that'd I'd forgotten what they'd died for, unwittingly or not. I rose to my feet, dragging the med-kit behind me as I move back down the drop ship stairs to see the doors open before me, spilling in the sunlight from outside.

I'd never seen such nature light before. And so much green, I could spot the beginnings of it around the dropship door and the outlines of tree shadows against the cool metal I'd grown so used too, but so much green that it reflected of the metal itself, casting a green hue around the entrance of the drop ship. I pause at the bottom of the staircase to gaze, unfiltered, into the outside.

It was breath-taking.

Absolutely mesmerising, something I'd never forget. I'd read about it for years, we all had, Earth skills class after Earth skills class, telling us about all these plants and trees and greenery we all believed we'd never get to see, and here It all was, right in front of me – just a few more steps and I'd feel the ground beneath my feet. Would it be hard, like the metal floor which I'd taken my first steps on, or would it be softened by a recent rain, muddy and supple.

I drag the med-kit across the floor over to the remaining, larger one still strapped in place against the wall and rest the smaller one beneath it, knowing I should really organise and take stock before heading outside for the very first time – to experience all of that with all the others. But a brief flash of the boys crushed nose and Glens fluttering heartbeat is enough to snap me out of my reverie. Two people have already died on this attempt to colonise earth, I'm not going to fail anyone else in the way I'd failed them, and so I kneeled down in front of my smaller med-kit, with its oxygen mask and bloodied bandages tossed haphazardly inside it and begin to take stock of what they'd given me.

Unless the larger med-kit holds a plethora of bandages I would have to be reusing the bloodied ones I'd used with Glen. It was mostly pain killers, bandages, some morphine vials, a few rations to be used in emergencies and an oxygen mask – hopefully the larger one holds more. Unstrapping it from the wall and allowing the weight of it to fall into my arms proves that it's much heavier than the smaller one I'd been lugging around. It also contained much more, that being more of what the smaller did and more products in general. The small crack in the lower corner had broken a bottle of morphine and spilt it's contents into the plastic box but, with the amount I've been provided, I'm hoping it won't cause much issue, I doubt I'd be in need of too much morphine.

I sit back on the floor, taking a moment to look over the final stock of my medical supplies and glance back round at the small glimpse of the outside that I have from my position and, should I turn any further, the view I have of the first boys shoes sticking out from behind some chairs. It strikes me now that I don't even know his name, or if anybody even will, considering how no one has come back in search of him.

They can't stay aboard the dropship, and on Earth they deserve a proper Earth burial, but I can hardly do that alone. I realise now that I'm putting of traveling outside in a way, though I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because I never thought it'd happen and now I'm worried? That it won't live up to expectation perhaps or that the council has placed so much pressure on us all that the moment I step foot on the ground everything we do will determine whether our peers follow us down here or not. I can't say I'm scared of the radiation, if we were all doing to die from it, being on the dropship or out in the open wouldn't make any difference. I move over to the door hanging on to the end as I look out.

I've never seen a blue sky before, not from below, only ever from above, in orbit. It was so striking, so brilliant in its vibrancy that it almost moved me to tears; certainly took my breath away at least. The trees were unlike anything I'd ever read about, they reached so high it was as though they brushed the sky itself, painting the very clouds into existence. I can assume that the ground is a supple mud from all the shoe prints present from all the other 100 rushing about, some I can still see between the trees and foliage but most are long lost within the distance. But on the ramp, leaning over a map were Clarke and Wells. Straight to business I suppose.

"You shouldn't have left back there, he was still breathing I needed your help."  
I didn't mean for that to be my first words to her on Earth or for my tone to be quite so reprimanding, it was an overwhelming situation for all of us. But I can't disagree with my statement. She shouldn't have left. Perhaps if time hadn't been wasted between her leaving and Finn stepping in I would have been able to save Glen. Clarke looks up at me, barley sparing an apologetic look, before returning to her map,

"They were just going to open the door, we had no idea what was out there, I had to stop them Belle."

"and you did a fine job there Clarke, really stopped them in their tracks, whether they opened that door or not radiation still would have found its way in, what did you want to happen Clarke, us stay locked inside forever?" I'm not sure where this argument is stemming from and, in the recesses of my mind, I no I'm juts taking my frustration out on her and I'm not being exactly fair, but I can't help that part of me that finds responsibility in her for Glens death, just like I find responsibility in Finn and myself.

"Look I'm sorry okay, what do you want me to do about It."

"He's dead Clarke; there's nothing you can do."

I'm being harsh and I know it but I can't stop. It's not her fault he's dead, not entirely, if at all really but whats been said has been said. On the Ark, Clarke and I never quite got along, we were civil enough, at times bordering on friendship, but we never moved past that territory. We just clashed. I found her too impulsive and desperate to have her way, while I'm sure she found me to agonise over every option too much and be all-round to passive. To be honest, I believe she shows her emotions and mentalities simply much closer to the surface than I do.

Wells is looking at me with a furrowed brow and downturned lips, as though he's not pleased with the way I'm speaking to Clarke – not that she's happy with him talking to her in the first place. I could agree with her on her coldness to Wells at least. He was responsible for her father's death after all, after growing up as such close friends and be betrayed like that, from your closes source or confidence, he's lucky Clarke even entertains his presence.

She scoffs at me under her breath and shakes her head at her map,  
"They dropped us nowhere near Mount Weather. There's an entire forest between us and it."

Apparently out conversation about Glenn is over, suppose I'll hold that grudge much longer than she will. But now the issue is getting to Mount Weather. Jaha said that it was fully stocked for a nuclear war, and he couldn't even get the drop point right. The rations I have in my med-kits are clearly to be used in dire circumstances, there aren't even enough to go around half the people here once, never mind sustain everyone for the remainder of what now looks like our very short time here.

"We've got more problems than that. The communications system is dead. I went to the roof, a dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires." Wells added to the general gloom of the conversation. They sent me down here to be their main source of communication to the Ark and be able to report back all the technical and medical information I could and now even that was ruined. No food, no supplies and no communication.  
Brilliant.

"Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather, see, look."

Clarke returns to her map and draws a line between us and Mount Weather as she explains to us both where we need to be going. To get there looks like a bit of a trek, not that I was ever very good at reading maps, I never did very well in Earth skills – I could read all the books, and I did, twice most of them, but I just couldn't pass the examinations, it was all the technical parts that threw me.

"How far is that exactly?"

Evidently Wells is really not happy with me as, just as Clarke looked to me to answer, Wells butted in with,  
"Where'd you learn to do that?"

Even I knew that that wasn't the right thing for him to say, there's a reason Clarke was always so excellent in her earth skills classes and much of it came down to her father's outside teaching and Wells knows this, so why he'd even think to question I'll never know but the icy chill of tension that settled over us was enough of an indicator that he'd said the wrong thing. Thankfully someone looked to be bounding over just in time to diffuse the situation and the awkward turn it'd taken,

"Ah, cool, a map. They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer."

The boy clearly meant well, not quite understanding the direness of the situation with Mount Weather and he did a good job of unknowingly cutting the tension that had settled but Wells was quick to amp it up again. This boy was a scrawny thing, goggles perched atop a messy head of hair and a pointed face but he looked kind with warm eyes and inviting grin so why Wells felt the need to grab him so forcefully and shove him backward like he posed any sort of threat was frankly ridiculous. But his clenched jaw and hardened eyes indicated that he wasn't intending to go easy on the kid. And neither were the small group of men coming over from the right.  
This looks distinctly like trouble arising – trouble I may need my medical alcohol and bandages for.

"Hey, hey, hey, hands off of him. He's with us."

The boys approaching seem to have already organised some form of defence if the makeshift spears they're carrying are anything to go off. Wells attempt to calm the situation he'd caused are short lived and you could clearly see they were unlikely to work anyway, even before that familiar voice chimed in,

"We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?"

I look round to find Bellamy Blake standing direct in my eyesight, and while I know he was addressing Wells, he too was only looking at me. He didn't look any different than I remember him, before he stopped using my services, not that I ever did find out why, but i certainly did see him much less after that. The only difference in him I could spot now was the guard uniform, but he still sported that same cocky air that he had with or without the jacket. We'd become friends, in that time that I'd helped him out, good friends actually – a friendship built on mutual trust, we both had secrets and I felt we'd both shared what we had. He was certainly one of my closest friends aboard the Ark, albeit he didn't exactly fit in with my usual friends circle or any circle I travelled in for that matter, bit I trusted him more than most. What could he have done to end up on the dropship?

Wells and Clarke broke away to approach Bellamy and the group of boys followed close behind. I'm unable to hear what they're saying from over here so I move closer, settling in-between Clarke and Wells but still stood back, as removed from the conflict as I could get,

"Screw your father."

Well, Wells is certainly going to have a fun time around here. The venom in the brunette's voice strikes me, never mind who she's directly addressing,

"What? You think your in charge down here, you and your little princess?", if she hadn't looked over at Clarke when she said that, fazing directly over me, I would've panicked to be at the end of her disgust. I've never seen this girl before, but she certainly has a hate for Wells and Clarke – Wells I can understand, it was likely his father that had locked her up, though I'm not sure what Clarke could have done to her.

"Do you think we care who's in charge?," Clarke begins, desperation clear in her face, "We _need_ to get to Mount Weather, not because the Chancellor said so," as she continues she moves to address the larger crowd clearly determined to get through to the others in the group. With how convincing and passionate she got in times like this, when faced with leading a crowd or a class, I always questioned how Wells was the Chancellors child and not her, she certainly had the makings of a chancellor, after speeches like this I'd follow her anywhere, friend or not, "but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a 20-mile trek, ok? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave. Now."

Apparently not everyone shared my sentiment for Clarkes rousing speech, "I got a better idea. You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change."

I can't say that the cheer that sounded after Bellamy's contribution surprised me, nor can I disagree with what he's saying, but that doesn't mean it cuts any less. While I can see how those from lower Stations were left to struggle by those in charge, and those of us who were blessed enough to be born into the more technological Stations defiantly faced an advantage in life and certainly held less menial and labour intensive jobs – it still hurts to know that Bellamy would view us all like that, or even the majority of people. I can recognise my privilege aboard the Ark, but I also felt I used that privilege to help those I could the best I could – Bellamy included.

"I don't think this is an issue to be divided between the privileged and the less so – this affects all of us." My own interjection surprised me just as much as it seemed to surprise both Clarke and Bellamy, while I certainly don't wish to be involved in a conflict, I refuse to ignore the blatant injustice Bellamy has just served and more importantly; Clarke was right, we all need to move to Mount Weather if we wanted to get through this. Clarke seemed surprised that I'd agreed with her and that I even got involved in the first place while Bellamy didn't even seem to realise I'd moved forward into the conflict, perhaps he didn't even think I'd hear him, if his sheepish look was anything to go on.

"She's right, and you're not listening, we all need to go."

Just as Wells finished off, someone came barging into my shoulder, knocking me forward and shoving me to the side as they rushed up to Wells to shove him back,  
"Look at this, everybody – the chancellor of earth."  
before this boy even began to speak he radiated cockiness and confidence, the swagger in his walk and stance as he provoked Wells and riled up the crowd made it clear that he was loving this, the fight and the attention. And Wells clearly didn't know when to stop and remove himself from the situation; clearly this aggravator was much more forward than Wells was. He didn't sand a chance.

Before I could even blink the floppy haired boy kicked Wells' legs out from under him and began heckling him, encouraging him into the fight. And the crowd loved it. Cheers erupted among them some I'm sure just excited for a fight and even more excited to see the Chancellors son beaten up. This was escalating quicker than anyone could control and I feared how badly Wells would come out of all of this; when Finn made a sudden appearance, leaping down from the side of the dropship to stop directly between the two boys.

A hush came over the crowd in anticipation of what would happen next, whether Finn would escalate or deescalate the fight, but as the boys stood across from each other for a moment it became clear that it was over and whines of disappointment come across the crowd.  
To put a final end to the altercation the brunette girl from before moved forward calling out in a flirty tone, "Hey Spacewalker, rescue me next." If her bedroom eyes and swaying body where any indication, she was clearly trying to get Finn to blush from her advances. It seemed to have the opposite effect though as a boyish grin spread across Finns face and some encouraging calls bubbled up from the remaining audience, though the situation was certainly at an end.

The drama and the audience it had attracted all dispersed back into the woods surrounding us and I watched as Bellamy approached the girl with an annoyed, exasperated expression marring his face, almost like a parent reprimanding a child for their wrongdoings. Any hope I had of over hearing their conversation disappeared as Bellamy grabbed her arm and dragged her off to the side, or as far as he could before she ripped her arm away from him. Clearly they were having some sort of argument with their hushed tones, leaning forward towards each other in their frustration.

Evidently they were a close pair, but I've truly never see or met this girl before and she's never someone Bellamy mention to me in our time together, and he certainly didn't have many friends at all, all that he did I'd met or knew about. So who was she and how could they be so close? If he'd met her after we'd stopped talking as much that'd only give him a month at most and to get as close as they seemed to be, it was odd.

Bellamy grabbed her again and pulled her even further away, obviously aiming for more privacy than they already had though I doubt anyone could have heard them anyway.

"Well, all that was pretty fun, eh." A cheerful voice chimed from beside me with soft laugh. It was that boy in the goggles from before, I hadn't realised that it was just me, him and another young boy now that all the crowds had dispersed. He seems just as nice and jovial as he did before and the friend next to him had a soft smile on his face too,

"That's one word for it." I laughed slightly.

"Ooo, not into the whole one-two then." He laughs along as he mimes out a punching action and his friend besides him chuckles at him,

"I'm Monty, and the one fake punching you is Jasper." It was the shorter boy with black hair that introduced themselves first while Jasper nodded along to his statement,

"I'm Isabella, people tend to call me Bella, or some variation of that." I held my hand out to them which Monty shook politely but Jasper scoffed, batted it away and gave me a swift hug before pulling back and announcing that they'd both be calling me Izzy, "sounds cooler" he said.

"Certainly a first but thanks" I laughed, definitely two of the most forward but nicest boys I'd met in a while, I wonder if they were like this aboard the Ark or if it's just the effect the ground has had on them.  
I turn back to watch Bellamy and the girl and see them coming to a calmer tone of speech and decide now is probably my chance to get over there, "Excuse me" I call to Jasper and Monty as I move away, both of them waving me off as they turn to some people behind them.

They were just finishing their conversation and as I made my way towards them, the brunette girl looked over at me and muttered something to Bellamy; he straightened himself out and gave me a soft smile as I approached, one I hoped was intended to welcome me over.

"Long time no see, Bell", I incline my head at him giving him a friendly smile, hoping he feel that nothing's changed between us just as I do – yes, his comment earlier annoyed me, but I certainly don't disagree with it. In truth, I'd missed him, in that month that he'd told me to stop sneaking him rations and clothes, I'd barely spoken to him and I sincerely hoped that our friendship wasn't only limited to the time in which I smuggled him supplies. Thankfully he smiled widely at me and agreed, laughing lightly as he turned to the brunette and laid a hand on her arm, "I think there's someone you should meet," he paused as he looked between us both and I smiled at the young girl, being this close to her I could see the freckles spotted across her nose and the familiar deep set of her eyes, she was a few inches taller than me despite certainly being a few years younger judging by the roundness of her youthful face.  
"Bella, this is Octavia, Octavia, Bella." He brought a calloused hand up between us to gesture between us and before I could raise a hand to shake her own she exclaimed,  
"Bella! This is Bella, oh my god I've heard so much about you, he hardly every shut up. Thank you so much."

I was taken aback by her thanks, I've defiantly never met this girl before, despite her affiliation with Bellamy so I can't imagine why she'd need to thank me. Bellamy had scoffed at her statements ad lightly shook his head but I couldn't understand why he'd tell her 'all about me' but never mention a word of her in return. Clearly recognising my confused expression, Bellamy placed his free hand on my own shoulder and said in a measured tone,  
"Octavia is my sister."

I couldn't stop my mouth from falling open as I looked comically back and forth between Bellamy and Octavia, _his sister_ that he'd never told me about. I'd been helping him out for years, he was one of my very first – how could he never think to tell me this. Suddenly it hit me, she must have been why I'd needed to supply them, Bellamy and his mother, with extra rations, he always told me his mother struggled with ill health and he just went through them too quick but he was such a kind and endearing boy that I had to help him, but now to know that this whole time I'd been supplying a secret sibling that they couldn't claim for,  
"wh-why would you never tell me, even with the rations I was getting you, they weren't enough for a whole other person. If I'd known I could've tried to get you more, given more medical care even."

They both chuckled slightly at my sentiments so clearly my tone had been more confused or upset than angered, and I'm not angry, rather a mash of gobsmacked and disbelieving,  
"I had no idea, this whole time. I'm so sorry." I finished in a quite tone,

"What are you sorry for, you basically kept me alive, risking yourself in the process, I owe you. And honestly after all Bell's said about you I'm just glad we've finally met." Octavia smiled as she spoke, looking up at her brother in a teasing manner at the end, clearly trying to embarrass him a little and I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped when watching their interaction, I'd never seen a set of siblings before, it seemed surreal.

"Alright I think that's enough out of you, O" he laughed as he spoke; nodding knowingly at her as she broke out into laughter at his expense and my own soft giggles joined them.

Just then Octavia caught sight of something to capture her interest just over my shoulder and, turning around, I spotted Finn spinning Monty and Jasper around to address Wells, who was resting his leg on the ground. It seemed they were arranging a party for Mount Weather and Octavia wasted no time in bounding over to them exclaiming,  
"Sounds like a party, make it 5."

For someone who has lived away from people her whole life she certainly oozed confidence, something Bellamy was evidenty trying to reign in,  
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

This must be how siblings are then, the big brother looking to protect and the little sister rebelling away – I couldn't control the giggle as I watch him try though.  
I stood with the rest of them as they discussed leaving for Mount Weather before Clarke noticed something with Finn's wristband, "Hey, where you trying to take this off?"  
"Yeah, so." Came Fins blasé reply.

Clarke launched into the whole explanations for the wristbands and I find myself surprised that no one else seems to understand the use for them, did the Ark simply strap them on and not explain their purpose that they were to measure our vitals and determine if Earth is even safe. How could they gloss over that fact, of course people would try to remove them, they'll see them as ties to the Skybox rather than the final form of commination to all their friends and family. Regardless, as Clarke finished her explanation of the wrist bands it was clear this was knew news for everyone present. With a finishing statement to dive her point home, Clarke called out for them all to leave while I move down to look at Wells and his injured leg.  
I have no intention of going with them, there are likely to be a few injured in the crash coming down and I'd be best to examine them and make sure no infections are likely to set in. They won't need a medic in the travel, it's just a straight cut through the forest and if anything should come up, Clarke has enough training to quickly patch anyone up.  
"Before you go let me put together a med-pack for you to take with you, just in case." I called up to Clarke as I rose from looking at Wells leg; she nodded silently at me and followed me inside to sort out the pack. The rest stayed outside to further discuss the journey and as I quickly organised some alcohol and bandages Clarke took a quick turn around the drop ship,  
"oh my god. Belle, what happened here, why didn't you say they were still here!"

I didn't need to turn around to know shed just found the first boy with the smashed in nose behind the first row of seats,  
"What could I have done with them Clarke, I need help moving them to bury them, but I can't exactly barge up to someone to ask them that." I spoke in a soft tone, not wanting to have to face the two empty bodies on the floor again, I know they need burying but I can't just stroll up and tell people that – I could hardly handle it myself and a small sniffle escaped me as I stood braced against the wall.

I heard Clarke making her way over to me and felt as she placed a hand on my shoulder before hugging me gently from the side, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left before. I'm sorry."

I was struck with guilt at realising I'd made her feel responsible for Glen's death before, it wasn't her fault, not by a long shot – my blame lies with Jaha, as I should for everyone. I shook my head at her and turned to face her fully saying, "No, it wasn't your fault, they were out of their seats in the crash but I did the best I could." I sobbed lightly on her shoulder. Clarke pulls me back slightly and looks me in the eyes, "It's not your fault either, accidents happen."

We can try and absolve the guilt we both feel as much as we can, but I doubt it'll ever go away. I silently nod and hand her the small drawstring bag I'd put together with medical supplies and we both head out of the dropship again, while I try to hurriedly wipe away my tears. I head out just as Octavia leans up to give Bellamy a quick kiss on the cheek and, though I smile to see it, it breaks my heart when I realise he's who I'll have to approach about the bodies on the dropship. He's the person I'm closest too here and the only one I think would be able to handle it to be honest.

They all begin to make their way out and I look over at Wells to tell him I'll be with him in a moment to see if there's anything I can do for his leg, as I slowly make my way over too Bellamy.  
He immediately notices my freshly tearstained face as his brow furrows and he reaches out an arm towards me,  
"Hey, hey, what's happened?" he asks In a more authoritative tone than one echoing with concern, but I feel I know him well enough to know that this was his way of expressing concern, to try and fix the problem and provide comfort after.

I started with a deep breath to compose myself, not wanting to burst into tears all over again, "When we crashed there were a few boys out of their seats. They got thrown into the walls of the ships, I did what I could but one was gone by the time I got to him and the other I just couldn't work quick enough to save," I paused to take another breath, most of what I was saying turning into a fast paced jumble by the end and Bellamy braced me with both his hands on my shoulders now, looking down at me with intense eyes, "they're both still on board Bellamy, and I need to get them off and get them buried but I can't do that alone." I finished.

"You don't have too, I'll start digging some graves for them and I'll move them off for you."

"No, no, I'll help you do it I just can't lift them and-"

"No. you've dealt with enough already, I'll handle it." He argued back at me, he was still staring at me intensely and he was gripping my shoulders at this point, as though trying to weld me to the ground itself. I knew this likely wasn't a fight I'd win but that doesn't mean he can't really stop me from following along with him if I so chose to, "I'll show you where they are." I nod and I move away to return to the dropship, Bellamy following close behind me and Wells watching us as we go.

I don't want to have to go in there again, I don't want to have to look at the boys smashed in nose or Glens covered face. I don't want to be reminded of the blood on my hands, but they, at the very least, deserve a proper burial.

This whole earth thing certainly wasn't off to a good start.


End file.
